I took my mom and dad to Beihai Park on their first real day. It’s always beautiful but it was decorated for National Day and looked ever better than last time.
On the sidewalk by the south entrance, a man was writing water poems. These poets use giant brushes and buckets of water to write poems on the ground. I wanted to take some pictures because I thought Marcus would love the idea of poems designed to be lost.
A crowd soon formed, watching me watch the water calligrapher. The poet saw me, smiled and began to write a poem involving the characters America and China. I thanked him, said it was beautiful, but had to tell him that, um, I can’t read.
My dad watched in surprise, as Chinese tourists snapped covert cellphone pictures of me or openly asked me to take photos with them.
“Not your typical day in Montclair,” my dad said.
But it is my typical day.